


Circles Around the Fire

by seashadows



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo has a filthy imagination as well as some Tookish enthusiasm, Circle Jerk, Everyone/Everyone is kind of implied but not really shown, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo wants Thorin. Thorin wants Bilbo. Luckily, Dwarvish tradition allows expression of that...and some other fun as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circles Around the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> For all the people in that art chat today to whom I promised this...you know who you are. ;)

“I have never been so wrong in all my life,” said Thorin, and Bilbo suddenly found himself swept up in the warmest, most solid embrace he’d ever experienced in all of his fifty years. Even injured, Thorin was so strong and his arms encircled Bilbo so firmly, and the hair that hung down between them smelled of smoke – 

Oh. Oh, dear. He had a bit of a problem down below now. He pressed his legs together tightly as, thank everything good, Thorin broke away from the hug, strong arms and bristly-soft beard and all. “I am sorry I doubted you,” he said. 

The dear thing. Bilbo’s heart melted in his chest and slid down to his stomach, filling as a good meal, warm as the sun. He was the one Thorin had asked for, not his strong, hearty nephews or his comrade-in-arms, but a Hobbit. Bilbo Baggins. _Him_. “No,” he said, “I would have doubted me, too.” He’d come on an adventure half-cocked, without even a handkerchief; what did that say about his foresight, after all? “I’m not a hero or a warrior, or even a burglar.” 

Thorin didn’t answer, but suddenly, his face was alight. Bilbo turned and there, off in the distance, was a single peak that could only be – “Is that what I think it is?” 

It was, according to Gandalf. Bilbo’s belly quickened with unexpected anticipation. What would it be like when he entered that mountain, if he could at all? Would the walls gleam with treasure and the halls sing with the happiness of ancient Dwarves’ shades, eager to see their descendants come home? And would Thorin’s beautiful smile remain on his face forever, enshrined as if in stone? 

“I do believe the worst is behind us,” he said, and hoped that the confidence in his voice wouldn’t belie the questions in his thoughts. 

No one questioned him, not even Gandalf, occupied as they were with getting off the spire of rock where the eagles had placed them. Bilbo carefully tagged along behind Thorin with one hand on the small of the Dwarf-king’s back when he looked to flag or stumble, and each time, Thorin looked back at him with an echo of that brilliant smile on his lips. _Soft lips_ , Bilbo thought once. _How soft would they be?_

“We’ve got to stay here today,” Óin said when they reached the bottom, all footsore if Bilbo’s own feet were any gauge. “There’s injuries to be tended. Thorin, I’ll not have any argument.” He narrowed his eyes at Thorin, feet firmly set and arms folded as if to say he would gladly fight his king if he were not allowed to treat and heal. 

Thorin slumped, and then with a wince, sighed deeply. “We will stay the day,” he said, “and the night. Tend the most injured of us first. Master Baggins.” He turned to Bilbo. “Have you any bruises?” 

“No,” said Bilbo. “Yes.” That was no aching of his heart, but a throb in his ribs. Thorin’s hug must have driven any thoughts of injuries out of his head. “But it’s not serious! Please treat the others first, Óin. I’m not the one who nearly fell out of a tree.” He turned his head to look at Dori, Nori, and Ori, huddled together in a clump. “They need tea for the scare they’ve had, at least.” 

“Hm, well…aye,” Óin said with a shrug of one shoulder. “Rest over there, then.” He pointed a gnarled forefinger at a patch of grass beneath a smooth black outcrop of the Carrock’s base. “The rest o’ye as well. I’ll have no argument. Rest until I call ye – you, too, Thorin. No arguin’.” 

Bilbo didn’t argue. Though he was sure he heard a few grumbles, some in the Dwarvish tongue, no one else did, either. He really _was_ terribly tired – staying awake while being chased by Orcs would do that to a Hobbit – so he located the few furs and blankets that had served as his bedroll since they lost the ponies and bedded down under the outcrop. 

Once he’d lain down, he allowed himself his first massive yawn of the morning and, through his eyelashes, watched Óin work. It seemed that Thorin would be the first to get treatment. Óin put his hands on his hips and told Thorin something, probably where he could put his stoicism, and Thorin finally acquiesced. And took his shirt off. Goodness! 

This was a gift, oh, _yes_. Bilbo turned over on his stomach and moved his head so he could still see Thorin as Óin had him twist about and ran his hands all over his chest and belly. If only he were Óin’s hands. So much hair on Thorin’s chest; truly, Dwarves were a marvel. That mat of black curls looked wonderfully soft and touchable, and how Bilbo longed to touch it. The thought occurred to him that if he put on his new magic ring, perhaps he could stand behind Thorin and run his hands all over him in the guise of Óin…no, but he would never do that. It was only a terribly pleasant fantasy, but Thorin deserved to have his body inviolate if he wished. 

What if he _wanted_ Bilbo to violate him? Now there was a thought. 

Bilbo’s eyes drooped all the way closed despite the appetizing sight in front of him. A sleep would be just the thing to bring him back to himself. Careful of his sore ribs and feet, he carefully wiggled in place to stimulate his cock _just_ a bit for a treat. That was better. Watching others always got him so terribly randy, just like when he was a tween and he and his cousins had gathered ‘round to watch everyone touching themselves – lass and lad alike, though he’d been far more focused on the lads. Fun times all, and the memory still made his hands tingle to touch himself. 

Mm, such fine memories this quest was bringing back, of times before he was a bachelor and everyone had shared each other so freely…

“Mister Bilbo?” Someone was shaking his shoulder. “Óin wants to have a look at you.” He must have fallen asleep. Bilbo opened his eyes and blinked at Ori, whose silhouette flared around with orange light. Had he slept until sunset? “Will you get up, please?” 

“All right.” He yawned and stretched, then climbed out of his bedroll, stiff and sore still. Óin was waiting for him where he’d last seen him, with bags and jars all around him. “Ori said you wanted to see me.” 

Óin nodded. “Aye, I did. How d’ye feel?” 

“A bit better,” said Bilbo, wrapping his arms about himself. It was terribly brisk for summer; this mountain climate was much harsher than the Shire. “I’m only rather sore here,” he added, indicating his chest with a wave of one hand, “and here, at my feet.” 

“Have your shirt off, then,” Óin said. “I won’t take long.” Bilbo did as he was told, slowly because of the temperature, and shivered while Óin looked him over - and occasionally prodded him gently - from head to toe. “I don’t see nowt broken,” he said after he was finished. “There’s a salve I can give ye if those bruises come out more painful tomorrow. Those feet’ll just have to stay sore, I’m afraid.” He patted Bilbo’s shoulder apologetically. “Can’t stop for more than a day, maybe two. Someone could maybe rub your feet with a salve, too.” 

Bilbo nodded. “I’ll ask. Will supper be ready soon?” Something smelled awfully good. Was it possible that someone had found mushrooms? The scent was certainly familiar. 

“Think so.” Óin patted him again. “You can put your shirt back on now.” 

Bilbo was only too glad to do so, and to wander over to the burgeoning fire. Someone, probably Glóin and Dwalin together, had dragged over a few flat stones, and daring to sit on one, he found that it wasn’t so cold as he had feared. His bum would warm it soon enough. “Is that supper?” he asked Dori, who was stirring something over the fire. 

“Yes indeed,” Dori said. “Bombur found mushrooms and Kíli shot a few ground birds. Don’t worry, Bombur had Thorin and Nori both check the mushrooms three times over to make sure they won’t harm us.” 

“Thorin?” Of course Thorin could identify mushrooms. Hadn’t he passed through this area years ago in exile? Bilbo would not be surprised to learn that Thorin’s memory would hold true after all that time. “As long as they’re not poison, then. I’m very hungry.” 

Dori gave the contents of the pot a last stir, trotted to Bilbo, and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for what you said to Óin,” he said quietly. “You’re considerate of others, Master Hobbit. That’s a fine quality among us.” 

“Oh,” said Bilbo, and grew warm. “You deserve kindness, Dori. You all do.” 

A strange expression flashed in Dori’s eyes, strange but kind, as he took Bilbo’s hand firmly in both of his for another squeeze. “So do you, Bilbo.” 

Bilbo sat on the rock with his knees drawn up to his chest as supper finished cooking and the Dwarves all gathered around to have it. He had the honor of the first bowl, and Fíli and Kíli sat on either side of him and slapped his back. “Uncle-saver,” Fíli called him fondly. “Dwarf-friend. You’re one of us, Bilbo.” 

“He already was, twit,” said Bofur from the other side of the fire. 

“That’s Prince Twit!” Kíli told him. “Show my twitty brother some respect.” 

Everyone laughed at that; even Thorin smiled, unless Bilbo missed his guess. “My heirs have conducted themselves well today,” he said, “and so have the rest of you, especially our Master Burglar.” He put down his bowl and rested his arms on his knees, suddenly serious. “I am proud to call you all part of this Company,” he told them. “Those I knew well before we set out and those I didn’t have all proven themselves true friends. I am glad to know you.” 

Smiles ringed the campfire, and Bilbo stared down at his feet, toes curling in the cool dirt. He was still Master Burglar, yes, but Thorin was glad to know him. Perhaps he would be glad to _know_ him. Closing his eyes, he let the image of Thorin without his shirt come to mind. Thorin was more injured than he was; maybe Óin had had him take off his trousers as well. 

“Bilbo.” A touch to his knee opened his eyes. There was Thorin before him, with his eyes wide and nearly beseeching. “There is a Dwarvish tradition that many participate in on journeys. We have long neglected it on this quest, but we’d like to revive it tonight. Will you participate?” 

Bilbo swallowed, and coughed when his throat itched. It seemed to have gone dry without him noticing. “What tradition?” 

“All right, but we won’t be looking at you, Uncle!” Kíli said. “Mahal, how long has it been? I’ve been going spare!” 

“What tradition?” Bilbo repeated. 

“It’s not something usually shared with people who are not Dwarves,” said Balin, taking pity on him, thank goodness. “If you don’t wish to participate, no one will force you. Now that you’ve proven yourself and won’t tell…” He cast his eyes around the circle. “We have a tradition of camaraderie among shieldmates. Each night, one will take off their clothes and begin to pleasure themselves, and those who want to will watch and do the same.” 

With great difficulty, Bilbo kept his mouth from dropping open. “Oh,” he said. “This is a…tradition?” Dwarves truly had hidden depths! Or _lengths_ , in the case of these Dwarves. His face heated at the memory of their baths in rivers, when he’d tried so hard not to look and been so rarely successful. 

“We understand ye mightn’t be familiar with such a thing,” said Dwalin gently. “And of course we’ll be askin’ the wizard to sit out – where _is_ the wizard?” 

A confused murmur followed his words. It must have been that Gandalf had stolen away while he slept, Bilbo realized; crafty wizard. Perhaps he had known that something like this was about to happen. He likely wouldn’t want to see thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit with their pricks out in the firelight, anyway, so large and fine for the Dwarves and so eager for the Hobbit. His cock immediately jumped in his trousers. “I wouldn’t mind participating,” he said. “I’ve – “ No, he wouldn’t tell them about the circles back home. Hobbits could have their secrets, too. “I’ve got no objections.” 

“Oh, none?” Glóin said with a grin. “You’ve more mettle than we thought, Master Hobbit!” 

“Will your wife mind?” Bilbo asked. He would not be party to infidelity. 

Glóin slapped his knees and shook his head. “It’s good of ye to ask,” he said, “but no. It’s a tradition. Sima’s participated in a few herself when she went to trade her jewels, and we were already married then.” 

Bilbo’s heart beat faster. If there was no objection he could make, and he was so stiff for it, then he was really going to do this. _They_ were really going to do this. “Who will we watch…f-first?” _Thorin, Thorin, Thorin Thorin Thorin_ , he prayed. The glories of Thorin’s beautiful body awaited him, if anyone cared to grant his dearest wish. 

The Company looked around at each other and smirked. “We thought it might be an honor to start with our king,” said Dori. Suddenly, Bilbo remembered what Dori had said earlier, about how he deserved kindness, too. The sneakiness of these Dwarves knew no limits, truly. “Of course, this is only if Thorin doesn’t object.” 

“No,” said Thorin, low and gravelly. His hair fell over his shoulders as he leaned forward. “The honor is mine, Dori. Will any sit out?” 

Dori glared at Ori, but Ori only shook his head. “I’m of age, Dori,” he said. “I’ve been touching myself for years.” 

Bilbo stifled a laugh as Dori’s look changed from patronizing to downright affronted. “I’ll start if you want,” he offered. “Taking my things off, I mean.” This had to be the Took in him coming out, for no Baggins would offer to disrobe in front of those he had only known for a few months, and Dwarves, no less. Mum would be so proud. She would probably want to participate as well, if only to make Dad blush and then disappear with her into their bedroom. 

These kinds of thoughts were _not_ conducive to his continued erection, which made it all the more relieving when Thorin stood up and began to disrobe himself. He undid the fastenings on his coat with practiced finesse, then lay his tunic carefully on top of it and took off his undershirt. 

Bilbo sprang to full hardness so quickly that his head spun, and dizzily, boldly, he stood up and swayed on his feet. Then his fingers found the buttons of his waistcoat, and with a deep breath, he joined the fun. 

Nori whooped; with that, the tension broke, and everyone’s clothes were flying off. Bilbo stared steadfastly at Thorin as his friend – were they friends? ( _I have never been so wrong in all my life_ , his strong arms, his _hug_ ) – spread his sturdy legs farther apart, one hand hovering at his cock. By Eru, he was only half hard and Bilbo still wanted nothing more than to run to him and grind for all he had. 

“Give us a look!” Óin shouted. Thorin’s fingers fluttered and, too slowly, his hand moved to cup his cock.

He groaned at once and his eyes closed as he sat down on the stone behind him with his knees apart. Bilbo bit his lip and echoed the sound. If only Thorin’s eyes were only for him, but he could dream. He could dream and touch himself, so he did. His thumb flicked over the head of his cock and helped the skin there retract, and the new calluses on the balls of his second and third fingers made him squeak in pleasure when he used them to spread around the drops of wetness coming from the slit. 

Moans came to either side of him, and he looked to see Fíli and Kíli with their eyes squeezed resolutely shut, Kíli turned away from the fire, stroking themselves. Well and good for them not to look at their uncle. Bilbo’s eyes darted around the fire, and yes, the groups of brothers and cousins had spread far apart. He feasted his eyes upon them for a few moments; Dwalin’s cock, larger than Thorin’s and redder that he could see, was pierced with a great silver-colored ring at the head, and with every few strokes, he tugged at it. Nori’s hand rested on Dwalin’s thigh, and far from shooing him away, Dwalin took that hand and directed it toward his fruits as Bilbo watched. 

Such an unexpected pair, and Dori biting his full lips in pleasure, and even Óin’s eyes slitted with pleasure – there was a beautiful bounty of cocks for his eyes to feast on, but Bilbo’s eyes strayed again and again to Thorin. He breathed hard, watching Thorin rub his cock in a loose fist, with his fingers stroking the sac below, and all the while, his breath came as hard as Bilbo’s. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, and realized that he could take it no longer. He let his cock slip from his hand and ran the few paces to Thorin, who looked up in surprise in the few moments he had before Bilbo kissed him. Thorin leaned into the kiss right away with a happy hum; there hadn’t even been a moment of stiffness, as if he expected, _wanted_ Bilbo to join him. “ _Thorin_ ,” Bilbo moaned. “You’re…so…” 

Thorin hushed him with another kiss and pulled him into his lap with those strong, sure hands. Noises of arousal came from a few members of the Company whom Bilbo couldn’t identify, and he found he did not at all care. They could watch if he liked; let them all see Thorin claim him and him claim Thorin in turn. 

Their cocks rubbed together, Thorin’s wetter than Bilbo’s at its tip, and the smell he made was sweeter. The air hung heavy with their breath, and on his back, the cool air of the night made him shiver and his skin prickle. The sound behind him could only be Dwalin; a juicier sound made him wonder if Nori was on his knees before him, sucking his cock – or was that someone else altogether? Was Balin on his knees in front of Dori, Ori with Fíli or Kíli, Bombur with anyone at all? Bilbo’s head spun with beautiful images and his cock quivered, fit to burst. 

Thorin bit his neck and came in a rush against him, heat spattering his stomach. “Thorin,” Bilbo said into his neck, a point of sweet tenderness among their heat – had Thorin been unable to hold back for him, the poor dear? “Was th-that for me?” 

A deep, husky growl and a big hand grabbing his arse was his answer. Bilbo ground forward and then back against Thorin’s palm (good Eru, it was big enough to nearly cup his whole arsecheek, and Bilbo had never been thin, at that!), leaning his hand on Thorin’s chest and watching the goings-on through half-closed eyes. Oh, he would have to change positions soon for the pain it caused his neck and back, but for now, he could relish the sight of Bofur with a finger up his arse and Nori getting Dwalin on his back, and what was Ori even _doing_ in a pile of princes? 

Beautiful Dwarves and wonderful sights and better friction than he’d had in a long, long time, what an amazing night. He never expected _this_ when he ran out his front door, no matter how Thorin’s eyes captivated him and his voice had made him…well. The memory of that night and what he’d done in bed came clearly into Bilbo’s head, and he shouted something absolutely nonsensical into Thorin’s chest as he spurted on his belly. 

Together, they breathed hard and clung to each other, and for himself, Bilbo knew he never wanted Thorin to let go. He idly sucked on Thorin’s nipple because he could, and for the same reason, watched more of their Company either sit on their perches, red-cheeked, or come with great and admirable enthusiasm. 

“So,” said Bofur only moments after he’d come with his fist in his mouth and an almost uncharacteristic high whimper in his throat (Bilbo had to admire his stamina, talking after all that), “will we be doin’ that again now that the burglar’s initiated?” 

“I’d be all right with that,” said Fíli. “Been ages.” 

Thorin rumbled a laugh. “I would ask that our burglar sit close to me if he chooses to,” he said, “but apart from that, yes, I believe the permanent revival of this tradition would benefit all.” 

Bilbo was just fine with that.


End file.
